


Let the Games Begin!

by Bowtiez



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awesome Clint Barton, Clint Barton-centric, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, Minor Injuries, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker-centric, Peter is a Little Shit, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Worried Tony Stark, pranks gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 22:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowtiez/pseuds/Bowtiez
Summary: Peter Parker and Clint Barton have a... strange relationship. Both are pranksters. When paired together, they're both finally meeting a worthy component in the prank world. And that can't lead to anything good.Also, Tony just wants his kiddo to not almost die. But, where's the fun in that?----This is literally just a crackfic. I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here it is! To share with ya'll! Mostly just Peter, Clint and a bit of Tony.





	Let the Games Begin!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know how I feel about this fic. It was already mostly written on Microsoft Word, so I decided to just post it! Hopefully people like it! It was an attempt at humor, as well as focusing a bit more on Clint because he's so underrated :(
> 
> And a bit of Iron!Dad and Spider!Son because why not?
> 
> Anywho, do enjoy!

Peter Parker was totally an Avenger. 

Okay, Peter Parker wasn’t _really_ an Avenger. But he knows them all. He’s friends with most of them. They know his identity. He’s trained with them on a couple occasions. They’ve all parented him on one occasion or another- some (Mister Stark) more than others. But it’s happened. 

So, Peter Parker is practically an Avenger. Sort of... Depending on who you ask, at least. 

But, that said, Peter is pretty sure he’s at least acquaintances with everyone- which is not something most fifteen-year-old teenagers can say. 

Peter’s sure he’d managed to break down _at least_ the original six Avenger’s walls. They all had a soft spot for him, and he knew it. Especially after the initial shock of Spider Man being a fifteen-year-old (or, at the time ‘fourteen years old? Christ Tony!’), they all felt the need to try and shelter him- a bit annoying honestly, but also a once in a lifetime thing. 

Captain Rogers would invite him on his morning jogs whenever Peter was at the Avenger’s Compound. It was super cool getting to see Mr. Rogers, _Captain America_, in his element of fitness. Steve would toss jokes over his shoulder as he attempted to slow his pace without denting Peter’s pride (Peter wasn’t much of an athlete, even with his spider traits). 

Steve would grin easily as Peter caught up- only to speed up and leave the younger in a cloud of imaginary dust again. But it was a process that Peter never wanted to end. Mister Rogers was super easy to tease, and the man only retaliated with ‘in my day...’ jokes which in turn made Peter beam brightly. 

Bruce Banner had taken Peter in with open arms as soon as the teenager spouted nonsense about Bruce’s research. He’s taken to the man, and he felt like they shared similar personalities. They were both awkward, like wow. Sometimes there would be an uncomfortable silence in the lab they’d been working together in, but it was honestly great. 

Bruce always managed to take care of him- despite not actually being a licensed medical doctor. He made Peter eat when he forgot, too focused on his project. He asked about Peter’s classes with actual general interest. 

Peter hadn’t gotten to speak with Thor much. The man was usually in Asgard, or dealing with Loki. But when he was around, Peter liked talking with him. It was funny being addressed as ‘Man of the Spiders’ and watching him wield his hammer at some of the other Avengers (usually Mister Stark). 

And, let’s be honest, was there anything cooler than watching the man travel via lightning? Thor also really liked retelling childhood stories about himself and Loki; ‘he’s adopted,’ Thor would always shrug after sharing some gory detail Loki had done when they were younger. 

Of course, then there was Tony Stark. Tony was still his favorite Avenger, no matter how much he liked to tease the older man that Thor or Capsicle was his favorite. Tony had believed in him from the start, and they’d quickly progressed their relationship from ‘mentor and mentee’ to ‘like-father like-son'. 

He and Tony would work long hours in the lab together, each improving their suits. Tony would throw jokes at him, and Peter would hand back the same treatment. If all else fails, throw the age card- Tony was decades older then Peter. 

Tony would send Happy to pick him up from school on Fridays, or sometimes he’d show up by himself, which was always a treat. Tony was totally a dad. 

Natasha was one of his favorites. She was usually so stoic and blank. A secret spy through and through, but she was starting to let her guard down around Peter. She liked to just sit with him in his room (where none of the other Avengers usually went) and they’d watch romcoms together. 

She had Russian pet names for him, and he’d even learned a couple of his own for her. She always stood up for him, and usually defended him as if he were an adult (usually to Cap or Tony). 

Then... then there was Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Peter thought Clint was awesome. Clint had so much personality. Clint also knew how to be a dad as he had two and one on the way of his own children, and he tended to dad the crap out of Peter- but like, in a not parental way. 

It was weird. 

More often than not, Clint let himself fall to the teenager’s standpoint, and almost adopted a teen’s mind of his own. Peter’s not even sure how the prank war between the two of them had become as intense as it was. It was a constant back and forth on weekends or holidays when Peter was granted access by Aunt May to come around. 

The first prank hadn’t even been a prank. Not totally. 

Well, it was. But not directed at Clint. It was directed towards the first poor Avenger’s Compound occupant to walk into the bathroom. 

Peter had duct taped an airhorn to the wall, lined up exactly with the handle of the bathroom door. When the first person (unfortunately Clint) opened the door to use the restroom, the handle would hit the airhorn button and... unsuspecting victim is at least surprised, if not more. Peter had hidden himself around the corner, waiting patiently. 

Clint hadn’t been amused. Peter had practically pissed himself laughing in the hallway as the older man growled curse words, ripping the prank off the wall before locking himself in the bathroom. 

They shared a couple gags back and forth; plastic wrap on the toilet, Kool Aid powder in the showerhead, a Mentos and coke prank (it was all over the kitchen), sticky notes covering a bedroom and replacing deodorant with cream cheese (hilarious but certainly evil). 

Unfortunately, after a while, Clint decided to step it up. 

Peter had looked everywhere for his backpack. He had to be at school in a couple hours, and he still had the commute to Queens. 

“Mister Stark?” Peter called into the lab, looking around as he walked, “have you seen my backpack?” 

“Last I saw it, it was in the living room, kiddo. Listen, I’ve got an SI meeting with Pep, so Happy’ll take you to school. Have a good week, behave,” Tony mumbled, mind elsewhere as he ruffled Peter’s freshly gelled hair before trekking up the stairs. 

Peter made his way to the living room, looking for his missing school bag. At this rate, he’d be late for school, and knowing Happy, the man was already waiting for him. 

Just as Peter thought all was lost (three pages of advanced Physics homework included) Peter saw a lone pencil in the middle of the hallway- no, a trail of pencils. With a tilt of his head, Peter followed the trail, collecting each as he moved. 

Inside one of the guest rooms of the Compound, was nothing. His bag not in sight. Until he glanced up at the roof as he released a stressed breath. 

There, duct taped to the ceiling, was his bookbag, textbooks, homework, each individual pen and pencil he owned, his geometry set (also all taped individually, box included), his PE strip, and every other small insignificant item he’d stashed in his bag. 

“What the?” Peter groaned. 

“Serves you right,” Clint peeked in the doorway, ever-present grin of success. 

“Common’, Dude, seriously? I’m going to be late for school!” Peter complained, “these textbooks are going to rip—and this homework is due today!” 

“Haha, good luck with this kid!” Clint grinned, “that’ll teach you to scare your elders.” 

“Dude, I’m part spider?” Peter reminded as he climbed himself up the wall and easily kept moving across the ceiling, “and this means war. That homework took like two hours.” 

“You’re on kid,” Clint had agreed, turning swiftly and leaving the room, “watch the paint, by the way. Roof paint can be flaky, and we don’t want Daddy Stark to be pissed, now do we~” he called from down the hallway. 

"Let the games begin!" Peter called back, to which he heard the man laugh from down the hallway. “It’s so on, Barton,” Peter muttered to himself peeling the tape away to free one of his pencils, “so on.” 

In turn, Peter had upped his game that next weekend. He’d had the week to plan, confided in his man-in-the-chair and MJ on some of the best pranks they knew, and finally found himself one of the better he’d heard. 

And he was going to go through with it, of course he was, until, a better opportunity came along. Peter had found Clint’s phone in the crevice of the sofas in the common room whilst on a search for the TV remote. 

Peter didn’t know why the secret agent archer didn’t have a password, but he was certainly glad it didn’t. 

And this was quite possibly the funniest thing Peter had ever seen in his life. 

“Peter, you brat!” Peter lifted his head from where he’d been resting on the couch. An old Star Wars movie repeat playing on the tv. 

“Hmm?” Peter questioned, tilting his head with an innocent smile. 

“Would you care to explain why the ‘I love you’ text I sent to my wife changed into ‘I think I might be gay for Tony’ because I have some serious explaining to do, and I don’t even know what the hell happened!” Clint demanded, face angry. Peter snorted a laugh, prepared to respond until Tony waltz into the room with a confused face 

“Look, Legolas, I know we’re friends and all, but I’d appreciate it if you not text-” Tony glanced at his phone, clearing his throat loudly, “’Caw caw, bitch’ when being questioned about whether or not you were coming to the Avenger’s meeting.” Peter sputtered out more laughter, legs drawing in as he cackled. Tony gave Peter a quick glance before returning his gaze to Clint and crossing his arms across his chest. 

“No- ugh! _I_ said yes! Look at your _little monster_ for that.” Clint spun quickly; eyes narrowed on the ball of laughter curled on the couch. Peter literally couldn’t stop his laughter. “What else did you change?” 

“N-not much,” Peter laughed, wheezing in a shaky breath and brushing away a tear from the laughter, “_’I love you’_ to _‘I think I might be gay for Tony’_, _‘Yes’_ to _‘Caw caw, Bitch’_, _‘No’_ to _‘you bet your cute little tushie’_, and _‘IDK’_, which I know you use a lot, to _‘STOP SENDING ME NUDE PICTURES, YOU PERVERT’_. Of course, that last one was in caps lock.” 

“No. No, no, no. Oh god! I sent Steve an IDK when he asked if I knew where Tony was.” Clint groaned. Peter bursted into another bout of uncontrollable laughter as he thought of seventy-plus-year-old Captain America receiving that text on the phone he’d literally just learned how to use, and being beyond confused. Plus, Clint always texted weird things, so people wouldn’t automatically think it was a prank. 

“This is a-amazing,” Peter gasped, rolling on his side to ease the pain in his stomach from laughing. 

“Glad you’re amused,” Clint scoffed, “control your animal,” he added to Tony as he stormed from the room. 

“I... I don’t think I want to know. Good work though, I’ve never seen him so frazzled.” Tony made a weird confused face before telling Peter he’d be in the lab and leaving the teenager to control his laughter. Definitely a story to share with Ned on Monday. 

It was all fun and games, until someone gets hurt. 

“Dude, I thought you were going to come over tonight?” Ned whined, over the phone. 

“I was going to. Really, but I haven’t gotten the chance to Spiderman this week. That Pre-Calculous pre-exam was killer and if I didn’t get at least a ninety, May would’ve had my ass and Spider Man would be gone for more than just the couple week nights I took to study.” Peter groaned, mind jumbling at just the thought of the pre-test that had quite possibly been worth more of their mark then the actual exam, “plus I didn’t even get to train with the Avengers on Sunday because of that stupid migraine from sensory overload, I’m dying to get out there, man.” 

It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter was at Avenger’s Tower. Since passing the exam, May had given him the weekend at the tower to recuperate. And that meant dividing his time between Tony Stark and being Spider-Man. After the morning (and practically the whole night before) spent in the lab, he was dying to get out on the streets. 

“Fine,” Ned groaned, “you owe me though. We never hang out anymore,” Ned huffed. 

“Tomorrow, I promise.” Peter promised. “Now, I gotta go. Mister Stark’s got some new web-shooters for me to try out. I’ll ask about you coming up to the tower tomorrow, but if not, I’ll be at your place before noon.” 

“Okay,” Ned agreed, “good luck out there, Spider-Man.” 

“Thanks, man. Talk tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, bye Peter.” 

When the call ended, Peter was quick to move up to his room, where the Spider-Man suit was laying across his bed. The new web-shooters, that they’d finished that morning, were placed carefully on top of Peter’s suit. The look of the suit made him feel giddy, because it had been a while since he could go out as the masked hero. 

He was quick to step into his suit, it molding perfectly to his frame. He slipped on the web-shooters, fingers hovering over the buttons. 

Then, with a grin, he ran and leapt out the window. 

As he started falling, he lifted his hand to shoot a web at the building across the street, but to his surprise, a pink foam-like substance shot out instead. 

Peter cursed, lifting his opposite hand to try it, but an yellow identical substance shot instead. 

_Oh shit._

Whatever was in the shooters barely made it two feet in front of Peter, before fluttering down and catching in the wind. 

Which meant that Peter was freefalling. 

Peter was panicking. He was basically falling to his death right now. What the hell had been in those web-shooters? Mister Stark wouldn’t have changed the formula without consulting Peter. But that had been far from his formula. 

The teen squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for death, when he heard the faint call of his name. Not Spider-Man, no, Peter- followed by what sounded like ‘parachute’. 

With a gasp, Peter shouted, “Karen, deploy parachute!” He was seconds away from hitting the ground when his breath caught in his throat as the parachute (thankfully just reinstalled that morning) deployed and caught in the wind. He’d probably have whiplash from the intense direction change, but at least he wasn’t dead. 

Peter’s breath of relief was short lived as a gust of wind threw him into the Avenger’s Tower windows. 

Pain engulfed Peter as his body was tossed through the glass. He landed on the floor with a hard thump, eyes squeezing shut as the glass from the floor pierced through the suit. 

The teenager rolled onto his back with a groan, pieces of glass stabbing into his skin. His body was on fire. He blinked his eyes closed, then opened them after what felt like a second, but was probably longer. 

Beside Peter, was Clint. The archer was rolling him onto his side, voice anxious. 

“Shit, Peter! Who doesn’t test their equipment before leaping out the window!” Clint’s voice was loud in Peter’s ringing ears, “God, Stark’s going to decimate me!” 

\---- 

When Peter woke up again, he was no longer in excruciating pain, instead a dull burning in literally every part of his body. The wounds from the glass were all healed, but the sharp pain in his head was still thrumming. He was no longer on the floor, instead in a bed in what looked like the Med-Bay. 

“Ugh,” Peter groaned into the room, not noticing the others around. 

“Peter, you with us?” Peter blinked to focus his eyes and shifted his gaze to the person sitting beside him on one of those crappy hospital chairs. Mister Stark. 

“I’m... yeah, I’m good. What... uh, what happened?” 

“Birdbrain over there tried to kill you.” 

“Hey, no. Wait a second! I wasn’t trying to kill him, and you know that.” Clint stood in the corner of the room. Guilt was written all over his face, and he was definitely keeping his distance, whether afraid of Tony or by his own merit, Peter couldn’t tell. 

“The web-shooters?” Peter guessed. He sort of remembered. It was hazy, but it was there. “You put Silly-String in my web-shooters?” 

The look on Clint’s face was one of regret, and his gaze shifted to the floor like a child being scolded. The atmosphere in the room was tense, both adults clearly upset. 

Peter snorted a laugh as everything sunk in, “y-you put Silly-String in my web-shooters! T-that's actually so awesome!” 

Peter glanced at Tony through his laughter, and the billionaire look floored. 

“Are you... are you okay, Pete?” 

“I’m fine!” Peter wheezed, “I mean, I almost died and all, but Clint managed to put freakin’ Silly-String in my million-dollar tech web-shooters, can ya believe it Mister Stark?” 

“I can’t,” the billionaire ground out, “what do you have to say for yourself, Barton?” 

“He told my wife I was gay,” Clint frowned. Peter laughed harder at that, so hard that burning in his body became a bit harder to ignore. 

“So, you try and kill him?” 

“No!” Clint shouted, exasperated, “I didn’t think the idiot would just put them on and swan dive out the window! Who doesn’t test their tech before using it?” 

“Well, he clearly didn’t!” Tony growled, “if it worked in the lab this morning, he expected it to work half an hour later.” 

“Look, I’m sorry. It was a boo-boo on my part-” 

“God,” Peter gaped, “I need to stop laughing, jeez. Why’s everything so funny?” 

“You’re hyped up on pain meds, Kiddo,” Tony snorted, reaching over to brush Peter’s hair off his forehead. “You broke your wrist on impact and you have a nasty case of whiplash.” 

“Yeah, I expected that.” Peter hummed. 

The teen watched the billionaire glare at Clint. 

“Don’t be too mad, it was an honest mistake,” Peter explained, “Clint actually saved me. I’d’ve been a spider pancake if he hadn’t reminded me of my parachute.” 

“I was freaking out, Man,” Clint huffed, “I’m surprised you didn’t remember it.” 

“He never remembers the parachute,” Mister Stark groaned, “Karen always has to deploy it. I think we need to check up on her if she didn’t. Something’s gotta be wrong in her coding- you didn’t touch anything did you?” Tony gave the teen in the bed an accusatory look. 

“Um, I don’t think so,” Peter shrugged. Tony rolled his eyes, exasperated with the boy in front of him.

“New rule to this little prank war you two have goin’ on: suits are off boundaries. We’re lucky nothing too bad happened to our little Spider-Kid.” Tony decided, “my tower, my rules.” 

“In favor,” Clint agreed. 

“Yeah, alright,” Peter lulled his head to the side, grinning at Clint, “I mean, I didn’t touch his stuff.” 

“You little shit! Steve is still awkward around me. I’m like walking on eggshells with him.” 

“And I had to walk out of the light,” Peter teased, “really had to remember, ‘don’t go into the light, Peter’.” 

“Can we not joke about your almost death? Yeah, thanks.” 

“Okay, fine, Peter’s suffered more than I did, happy now, Kid?” 

“Oh yeah, ecstatic,” Peter deadpanned, glancing down at his injured wrist. “You better keep your guard up. Imma get you, Clint.” 

“You’re on bug-boy.” 

“God save us all,” Tony whined, eyeing the two others in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! I hope you like my first little crack fic! Lemme know how I did in the comments, because I'm so unsure about this??
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated, and everything matters and brightens my day! Constructive criticism, thoughts, opinions or anything else you wish to share is amazing!
> 
> Thanks for stopping in to give this a read, and maybe I'll see you on something else I've written? Bai!


End file.
